


Red, Yellow, Green

by sirenofodysseus



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Cunnilingus, Daddy Issues, F/M, Mommy Issues, Mommy Kink, Post Red Rover Red Rover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:48:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24938563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenofodysseus/pseuds/sirenofodysseus
Summary: (Of course, Lisbon isn’t his mother—but sometimes…sometimes…he wishes she were.)
Relationships: Teresa Lisbon/Luther Wainwright





	Red, Yellow, Green

**Author's Note:**

> ...there's no explanation for this piece, other than the fact I just really wanted to write a Lisbon/Wainwright fic.

Luther Wainwright is beyond pissed when he returns to his sparsely decorated office, after having fired Patrick Jane, that he doesn’t realize Teresa Lisbon’s in his office till he shouts fuck and kicks out at his desk. 

“Are you done throwing your tantrum yet?” Lisbon asks from the door, having already drawn the blinds. Luther says nothing, his hands shaking as he lowers himself into his desk chair. “Last I checked, you were 33 – not 3.” 

He eyes her. “Not today, Agent. Please.” Frowning, he moves to cradle his head in his hands as he sits at his desk. Not only was he going to be buried in red tape till the end of time, due to Jane’s psychotic episode with Benjamin Marx, but Director Bertram was going to have his head, once it was realized that he had been the one to dismiss the golden boy. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then, he feels Lisbon’s hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t care what you want, Luther,” Lisbon whispers into his ear, her fingers pressing into his shoulders. “It’s all about what you need.” Luther jerks his head upwards. “And right now,” he feels himself being spun around until her breasts are at his eye level. “You need a timeout.” 

Luther narrows his eyes before he shoves her backward. “Once again, Agent. I’m not in the mood for this.” 

“I don’t recall giving you a choice,” he hears her tell him, and his dick stirs in response. “Now, you’re going to strip.” Luther blinks toward her. It’s been about six months since they’ve last gone around, both sweaty and going at it on Jane’s makeshift attic bed, but he assumes Lisbon’s just angry enough to return to old, unhealthy habits. “What in the hell are you waiting for? Christmas?” 

Luther snorts. She’s never scared him. Teresa Lisbon, Agent of the Serious Crimes Unit (and handler for Patrick Jane), is many things – but scary is not one of them. “Go home, L…” He doesn’t get a chance to finish her dismissal, before her hand cuts across his face. He immediately goes silent, and his eyes fall to the ground, as she begins to remove his clothing. She doesn’t say anything else to him until after he’s sitting in just his boxer-briefs, and she’s moved away, only to sink onto his office couch. 

“I bet that’s much better,” she tuts, and he reluctantly nods. Old habits die hard, after all. “Now, come here, baby.” Her sickly-sweet tone has him immediately on his feet, his stomach fluttering at the thought of being humiliated. They’ve done scenes, once or twice, and Lisbon, he’s learned, is a natural at being a dom. She’ll humiliate him until morning, but she’d never overstep their boundaries. “Let Momma make it all better.” Luther flushes. Contrary to Jane’s belief, he’d never been a mama’s boy or a daddy’s boy. His mother had been an alcoholic: his father, a compulsive gambler. Thanks to the tender, loving care of his parents, he had been the only teenager to know how to make the perfect Bloody Mary and how to unhinge his jaw to take an entire cock without choking, as well. He doesn’t move for the longest second, and eventually, Lisbon’s soft voice makes him glance upwards toward her again. “Luther, your color?” 

He hesitates, and he thinks red. 

Instead, he says yellow and then green. 

She nods and presses on. “Was Jane awful to you today, Luther?” From his spot, Luther nods, and she beckons him closer with a jerk of her wrist. He steps toward her, and she clears her throat. “Be careful, baby. You don’t want to fall, do you?” In response, he adjusts his stance and begins to waddle toward her—feeling humiliated at the idea of her babying. Once he’s at her side and on his knees, she spreads her legs. “I know what will make my baby boy smile again.” 

Luther takes the hint. 

His fingers clumsily attempt to undo her jeans, and after three mishaps, she guides him with a kind smile. He cannot help but smile up at her, and once her jeans have been removed, he inches toward her – only to bury his lips in her glistening folds. His tongue laps at her juices as her fingers immerse themselves into his hair. He hears the hitch in her breathing as he replaces his tongue with fingers, rubbing her clit gently. 

He wants to tell her they can’t do this; that what they’re doing is both unhealthy and wrong, but he just can’t. He likes the way her breath hitches. He also likes the feeling of her fingers in his hair, something he wishes his mother had done when he was a small child. 

(Of course, Lisbon isn’t his mother—but sometimes…sometimes…he wishes she were.)


End file.
